


Cross the bridge

by TheCursedChild



Series: Bridges [2]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied Bass/Miles, Loss of Control, Need, Trust, Uncle/Niece Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4852763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCursedChild/pseuds/TheCursedChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To save her brother, Charlie must be in control at all times. Miles knows that her behavior will result in nothing good, so he lets her lose control with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cross the bridge

**Author's Note:**

> Tiny confession; before I whole-heartedly jumped onto the Charloe bandwagon after 1x10...I totally shipped Charlie and Miles. Can't help it, won't apologize for it. Don't read this if it offends you.

Miles has long since stopped blaming himself for the fucked-up shit his subconscious comes up with while he is sleeping. If he wakes up with the phantom taste of her sex-salty skin on his tongue, or the scent of her hair tickling his nose as he pushes deeper inside her, he shakes it off and carries on with his day because he doesn’t have a choice.

He doesn’t fantasize about her while they travel side by side under an endless roof of grey clouds, doesn’t ache to touch her wherever he can when he teaches her how to fight, doesn’t go out of his way to be close to her while their group hunts down the people who have his nephew (a boy he can hardly remember and silently can’t be bothered to care about all that much).

He’s a grown man, he can control his urges, even when they take him by completely surprise. Though it isn’t all that unexpected; Charlie is exactly his type, both in and out. Her golden locks, slim figure, blue eyes and adoring smile easily turn him on. So does her fierce personality, her endless loyalty, and her cursed stubbornness.

Miles doesn’t get drunk anymore, not since Charlie urged him to accompany her on her rescue mission. Sure, he drinks (more than what’s probably healthy or safe with the whole Militia out for him), but never enough to lose the control on his most basic urges.

Even on the coldest nights in the Republic, when they share the meagre sleeping bag that barely fits the both of them, he doesn’t try a thing. He wraps an arm around her waist those nights, hand resting on her stomach, and tries to chase the cold away. He doesn’t inhale her scent, doesn’t rub circles on her skin with his thumb, never tries to get her tank top to ride up and expose tanned flesh to caress.

Nevertheless, it does happen, and far quicker than he ever would’ve planned. They’ve split from the group to get Nora, who he needs if he wants to help Charlie accomplish her goal. He knows he’s scaring her with his tactics, snapping necks and torturing so efficiently that even she can’t miss the fact that he is experienced with this way of life.

He wonders what Ben would think of what he is about to do; scoffs that his brother should not have sent his precious little girl to a man whose only plus was his skill with a blade and a gun.

Charlie is showing the signs, far earlier than she should. So very quick to turn her innocence in for the skillset and layers of moral denial she’ll need to get her brother back. He sees in her what he started seeing in Bass after Shelley and the baby died, only she still has hope to regain what she’s lost, where his best friend had none left.

She needs somebody, anybody, and she isn’t getting it. The option she is drifting toward (that Militia boy that’s up to no good), is a death sentence for all three Mathesons left, which also goes for any stranger he could pass her on to, and so it befalls unto him. He knows what it’s like, remembers all too well that the constant need to be in control and on top is destructive to people like them when there is no moment to let go. But to truly let go there needs to be trust, and she won’t find that in a bar or on the road, and certainly not anyone to pass Miles’ high standards.

He has always had Bass. Ever since they signed up together and entered the world of war for real in the most hateful places in the world, it has been Bass who was there for him. Miles likes to think that he is experienced enough now not to need Bass any longer, even though he knows that such thoughts are foolish.

Charlie is depriving herself in an attempt to adapt to this new way of looking at the world, and it’s endangering the whole group and Danny. He should talk to her, should be trying to explain what he is trying to do, that he’s trying to help, but he’s never been any good with words. Frankly, he wouldn’t know where to start the most awkward conversation with his niece ever. He’s never needed to put what he has with Bass into words.

They’re wrapped up in their only sleeping bag, another cold night similar to what they have at least ten months out of twelve every year up north. Miles is wondering how to start this, how to react if or when she shies away. Charlie’s hand is on top of his, her back snuggled into his chest and her head under his chin.  

Charlie is still awake, her breathing not quite as steady as she’s trying to get it. She doesn’t want to fall asleep, because despite Miles’ presence, that’s when the nightmares come. During the day, she can distance herself from the horror with sheer determination, but when the sun goes down, so do her defences.

She intertwines her fingers with Miles’, and smiles softly when that does calm her nerves. She should have known. This is the safest she has felt since she was ripped away from her childhood home by the blackout and found out what the world was really like.

Ever since her dad died, she has been fighting tooth and nail, leaving her morals behind so she has a chance to save Danny before it’s too late. She sleeps little, works hard, and the stress is taking its toll on her. But the only way to get her brother back is to stay on top of everything, to never lose control.

Charlie, though, knows very well that she can’t keep up the pace without reprieve. Miles’ concerned stares when she walks away from fights with blood on her hands, and an edge of darkness seeping into her mind, tell her all she needs to know. Miles is a fighter, and if he fears for her sanity, she should definitely do too.

Gathering up heaps of courage from the depth of her very being. She takes their hands and very slowly moves them both down, a gesture that could be mistaken as simply getting comfortable. She hooks their fingers under her tank top and pulls it up just an inch, exposing the flat planes of her stomach and resting her hand just below her bellybutton, Miles’ trapped in between. His large hand is scorching on her bare skin. No mistaking the intent now.

Miles, meanwhile, tightens his grip on Charlie’s hip, recognising the gesture for the command that it is. She wants this, she has realized she needs this, and she trusts him to give it to her. He is momentarily stunned by the undeniable, unconditional trust she puts in him without him having to ask for it. Charlie defies his expectations again and again. No matter what she learns of his past, she stands by him.

He takes a deep breath, lets the tension leave his body, and shifts his grip on her hip to give him a better angle, Charlie voluntarily moving with the motion. He caresses the skin that Charlie exposed for him, marvelling at the privilege. He puts some pressure behind the gesture, and she listens to it and scoots closer, pressing their bodies together with a gentle sigh, starting to relax already.

It is impossible for her not to feel his hardness now, where it rests against her lower back. The double layer of denim does nothing to hide his attraction to her, and Charlie doesn’t seem to mind in the least.

Miles tightens the grips on her fingers, her hand still resting on his, and trails down with a destination in mind. He doesn’t know how long they have until they are interrupted, and he can’t take the risk that they won’t finish whatever they’ve started tonight.

Her belt is already off, lying within reach together with his and her crossbow, the rest of their clothes still very much on. It makes for little resistance when he reaches edge of her low-cut jeans. He undoes the button and the zipper, Charlie’s fingers working with his to get that part out of the way.

His hand moves further down, while Charlie lets go and instead wraps hers around his bicep, clinging in anticipation of what will happen next. Miles palms her sex, the tips of his fingers skimming over her opening, gathering up moisture. Charlie moans, arching against him, her other hand reaching back to cover his on her hip.

As a simple show of his control over her, he reverses the position of their hands so his is on top, pressing hers down hard enough that their nails leave marks on her slightly exposed hip. He kisses the top of her head, a gesture that is totally inappropriate for the moment, but so them that it doesn’t matter, and presses the heel of his right hand against her clit.

Her gasp of pleasure is interrupted by one of surprise as he uses his grip on her body to heave her a few inches up, bringing her smooth neck within the range of his lips. His mouth descents on her, teeth skimming over the expanse of skin with the lightness of a feather. He soothes the irritated skin with his tongue, a silent apology that she doesn’t even ask for.

Miles would love to tease her, take her apart with his mouth and hands and work her body until she is desperate enough to beg. But not today. They are exposed here in the forest, no telling who is closing in on them. When she needs him again, he will make sure he’ll have all the time in the world to make her come like she does in his dreams, his name on her lips as she bends her head back in pure ecstasy.

Instead, he picks up the pace, no time to explore, and enters her with a single digit. She is so tight that he has to close his eyes for a moment and imagine what she would feel like around his cock, body so willing and pliant beneath him.

Her short nails dig into the skin of his upper arm at the sensation, and he doesn’t need her to tell him she is ready for more, so he gives her a second finger and curls them just right. Charlie agrees, because she cries out, clenching around his digits and trying to get him even deeper inside of her.

With the angle as it is, he can barely move his hand the way he wants to, or at the speed Charlie is going to need to come, so he tenses his body and rolls to his back, taking Charlie along for the ride. The young woman gasps again, the jarring movement annoying, but the new angle so satisfying that she can barely think straight, which is the point.

Miles thanks whoever is listening that Charlie is ridiculously light, and he can keep the both of them more or less up with one arm. He gets them into a semi-seated position, Charlie’s back to his chest and her legs as wide as they can go in denim between his.

His left arm holds them both up while his right hand probes deeper and faster, curling at the right moments. Charlie has her arms wrapped around his legs, hands resting on his knees as her quickening breath and occasional moans fill the silence of the trees surrounding them.

Miles wryly thinks that is has been a really long time since he last got laid, because with Charlie rubbing against him, he is about to come in his pants. He’s not even going to bother feeling embarrassed, how could he not be close when he is fulfilling one of his most beloved fantasies.

With a kiss to the pulse point on her neck, he thumbs her clit with vigour, and gets rewarded when Charlie says his name again and again in gratitude. He withdraws his hand from her opened jeans and brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting her like he’s been dreaming. He groans as the salty sweetness coats his tongue, it’s like a divine three-course meal wrapped up in one lick, and he feels like whining when his fingers are clean far too quickly. He doesn’t get the chance though, because Charlie, no longer trapped in his grip, twists to face him, hair tousled and a sheen of sweat coating her flushed skin.

She smiles brilliantly at him, and rests her hands on his chest, just enjoying the feeling of his muscles rippling beneath her, his ribs obvious with his harsh breathing. Miles lowers himself to the ground, letting Charlie cover every possible inch of his body.

With both of his hands free to explore, he takes advantage for just a moment, running them along the curves of her body, taking extra care to caress her breasts and using his thumbs to find her nipples. Charlie seems to lose the last control she had left, and gives in to the urge to kiss her uncle. Whatever line she was planning not to cross, she obliterates it as her lips meet his.

He takes control with dominance and experience immediately, now that she has surrendered another boundary to him. He has had to be careful with how far he can go with Charlie, but he seemingly doesn’t need to worry.

There is an underlying fire beneath the slow and sweet kiss. A passion between to compatible people that lingers just below the surface. The heat of it spreads through their entangled limbs with a deliberate trail, dissipating whatever chill remained.

One of Miles’ hands is lost in the waves of golden locks, while the other intercepts Charlie’s and guides her to his cock. He is almost painfully straining against the denim, so they unbutton and unzip his jeans with the same ease and teamwork as they used on hers. He groans as his hardness springs free, pulling Charlie down so he can silence himself by attacking her slender neck, teeth scraping over skin.

He wraps their hands around his cock, showing Charlie exactly how he likes it, controlling the tightness of her grip and the speed with which they move. The quick study doesn’t only apply to fighting in Charlie’s case, because before long she is expertly making him groan with pleasure as she gets him closer to the edge all by herself.

He lets her figure the rest out so he can finally creep his hands under her shirt and bra and palm two perfectly round breasts. The rough pads of his thumbs graze across her nipples, which temporarily distracts her from her job.

Miles bites down gently on her shoulder, reminding her of what she is supposed to be doing, and he can feel her cheek lift up in an apologetic grin as she continues her administrations. As a reward, he sucks a mark into her skin, blood rising to the surface to stake his claim on her body.

Exactly then, she moves her thumb over the head of his cock, slicking her fingers up further but unnecessarily, because he tumbles over the edge  as she does it. He stifles his own groan by searching for her lips again, tongue tracing across and demanding permission to enter. He battles with her lazily, not really invested in winning now that she is exactly where they both want her to be.  

 


End file.
